Charlie
by SuGaRnSpIcE4222
Summary: She needed help, and the one person who could help her she didn't even know was there...would always be there.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so the first chapter is entirely way too short, I know, but I just needed to set the mood. I promise, the others will be substantial. Oh, and I don't own law and order…although I kinda wish I did. That would be cool. Yep.

Sweat trickled down the crevices of her breasts as she slept. For two weeks she'd had the same reoccurring nightmare but had no idea what it meant. She wanted it to stop and tried everything in her will power to find a way. At one point she even refused to sleep, living solely off the power of Caffeine. That proved to be a bad idea, though, when she accidentally snapped at one of her rape victims late one night. "You WILL press charges" She had commanded. _"And you WILL stop wasting my time. You're not the only one with an agenda, you know"_ The words played off like a movie in her mind, each reel pushing itself closer to her mind when she only wanted it to move farther back. She'd apologized, of course, and tried to explain her situation without sounding like a nut case, but that was no excuse for her inappropriate behavior.

"_Do you believe in God?" _

_What kind of question was that? Of course she believed in God. She had no other hope but God when it came right down to her situation. If she chose not to believe, she would die. The water would eventually seep into her car, which had just been hijacked and driven off Manhattan Bridge, and soon she would drown. If she chose to believe, well it couldn't hurt matters- at best she'd at least make it into Heaven, or whatever majestic land awaiting her shortly after death. _

She shot up, breathing deeply and now wide awake and trying desperately to catch her breath. Who was this woman? Casey had no clue, but saw her come closer and closer to death each time she closed her eyes. In the pit of her stomach she felt close to this woman who frequented her dreams each night; it was almost as if she knew her. Or did she? Was this woman somebody Casey was supposed to help? She had never doubted that people come into one another's lives for a reason. Casey couldn't help but wonder if she was supposed to meet this woman only to help her; to warn her.


	2. Chapter 2

The dark circles under Casey's eyes were a constant reminder that, yet again, she'd gotten little to no sleep. Worse yet, they refused to let her hide her instability. People would wonder why she was so cranky lately; they'd talk, but they'd never confront her. At least no one close to her would confront her. Her friends just thought she was having a rough time with one of the cases; it wouldn't be abnormal—all of them had trouble with the cases. Women, and even children, raped and half of them brutally murdered afterwards…it was a wonder how any of them survived. And yet, somebody had to do it; just as somebody had to prosecute the creeps who took away every victim's dignity.

But Casey had much more on her mind than her victims; she was still being haunted every night by a woman she'd never even met, and could only guess she was supposed to help. She couldn't pass a woman on the sidewalk without wondering "could that be her? Maybe." But it was nearly impossible to recognize a woman whose face she'd never seen, even in her dreams. Casey only identified the woman by her straight, long blonde hair and the sense of fear the woman got when the water enveloped her, draining slowly into her lungs and stealing her last breaths. The rest of her features were hidden behind the steering wheel she would later die behind.

"_Do you believe in God?"_ Casey sat hunched over in her office chair, playing the line over and over again in her mind like a riddle. What had the voice meant by that? When it came right down to it, did it really matter if the woman believed in God? No, it didn't; she was drowning, she would die regardless of her beliefs. Of course, it couldn't hurt, like she'd previously pointed out to herself, but that didn't change the fact that it wouldn't help her situation any.

And why hadn't the voice helped her? The voice itself didn't seem to be in any distress, therefore, he must not have been drowning. If he saw her drowning then was he responsible for her death? Was it a murder? Should she be on the look out for a woman involved in an attempted murder? She couldn't bring herself to look through the pages of pictures that each precinct had of unsolved murders; she'd feel too guilty if she recognized the woman in one of the pictures and hadn't managed to help her in time. "One death," she thought to herself, "is one too many to feel guilty for." No matter how often his memory pushed forward in her memory, Casey did her best to keep it at bay. She would always feel in part responsible for his death; after all, she was his fiancée, wasn't she supposed to help him? That's what "for better or for worse" meant, wasn't it? Even without committing the vows in front of God yet, she'd already agreed to the "for better or for worse" part simply by agreeing to marry Charlie.

"CASEY!" Olivia half shouted, getting agitated as the coffee she was trying to offer to Casey was becoming overwhelmingly warm in her palm.

"I'm sorry" Casey shook her head, trying her best to rid herself of thoughts about her dream. There'd be more time for those later as she lay awake, once again in bed.

"Take your coffee" Olivia said, setting it carefully the desk before her, which was strategically covered in paper-work and files.

"Thank you" Casey gratefully sipped the coffee, her body thankful for the extra spark the caffeine offered.

"What's with you lately, anyways? You look like your bird just flew away."

"Cases. What else?" Casey failed to hide the edge in her voice.

"Sorry" Olivia said meekly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault. Our office is just overly swamped and I'm a little frustrated with it all" Casey heaved a sigh. She couldn't tell Olivia the truth, and if she kept up with the attitude, it would eventually come out to somebody. She couldn't imagine a worse scenario than the truth leaking out and into the wrong hands. If it got to Captain Cragen, he might suggest to Jack McCoy that Casey undergo counseling. She couldn't risk the chance of some shrink using her dream to manipulate her true feelings out her; Charlie was hidden deep inside her, along with the guilt she felt for his death. And for now, that was where he, and it, belonged.

The red numbers on her alarm clock struck "2:00 a.m." the last time Casey looked at them before her eyes forced themselves shut. Sleep overwhelmed her; _**dreams**_ now controlled her.

"_Do you believe in God?"_ The dream was starting again, and Casey could do nothing to stop it; not even wake up.

"_Somebody help her!" _Casey shouted, an innocent bystander to the death of this woman. She couldn't move to help her, but why? And if she was there, how come she too wasn't drowning?She watched helplessly as the woman struggled to breathe; but the water was inevitable. It forcefully filled itself in her lungs, stealing her oxygen for its own disgraceful pleasures, and all Casey could do was watch.

"_Help!" The woman screamed. She used her fists to pound vehemently on the glass windows, but to no avail. They wouldn't break, just as they hadn't in the previous dreams. And each time the woman opened her mouth, more water stowed away in her lungs. "Please!" The woman cried in mercy. "I'm sorry! I am; I'm sorry!" With no other last words, she succumbed to the water, and once again she was dead. _

Casey shot up, wide awake yet again. "4:00 a.m.", three hours before she had to be in her office. She looked down; her pajamas were soaked to her chest and legs with sweat. The hairs on her arms prickled upwards. Thoughts of the dream raced fiercely through Casey's mind, barely allowing her any time to catch her breath. She was afraid; she was sent to help this woman and so far all she'd done was watch her die. The thought of another death on her shoulders tormented her. She had to figure out who the woman was, and soon…before she truly was dead. And although she didn't want to, it was time to analyze the dream.

The woman had never apologized before. What was she apologizing for? More importantly, _who_ was she apologizing to? Was she apologizing to the man who asked if she'd believed in God? And again, what was the importance of his question? Why did he persist on asking her a question that in the end wouldn't make her or break her? Was he really so irate at her that he could witness her death without so much as offering a helping hand?


End file.
